The Sky Above

The passage was full of sounds both muffled and tinny, with the trickle of minute waterfalls and the buzz of mottled-shelled beetles appearing suddenly as they passed by whatever rotten log or barrel-high boulder that blocked their view, only to fade again just as swiftly the moment they were out of sight.

Twilight paused in circling a wide pool to lean down and examine some manner of winged water strider.

“Bugs in winter,” Squirrel grunted, following her gaze. “I hate them already.”

“Well, it’s warm enough in here,” Rainbow said, fluffing out her wings impatiently from the logjam a few paces ahead. “Too dang close, though.”

Twilight turned away from the skittering insect. “Right – we should keep moving.”

They’d been moving not more than ten or fifteen minutes by now and were already starting to feel the canyon’s oppressive air; talk was stifled and hoofsteps were uncommonly light.

Occasionally they’d pass by a small cairn, barely a few stones high, set atop whatever was near and dry. “Maybe they mark the whole path?” Squirrel asked as they passed yet another. “And the ‘lings were just teasing about how hard it was?”

“You wouldn’t put directions in your own backyard, Squirrel,” Rainbow grunted. “These’re probably just for fun.”

The canyon became increasingly cluttered as they progressed, with everything from logs and stones to upheaved muck and fertive-looking burrows blocking their way. It must’ve been well over half-an-hour since they’d entered, but they’d yet to see the first branching.

“I’m beginning to wish I’d thought to ask just how long this was,” Twilight puffed out as she bounded up a series of stones.

“We’ll be fine, Sparkle,” Squirrel assured her, trailing close behind. “Like I said: if this takes too long, we’ll just turn around and make it back to Shade by nightfall. We’ll be fiiine.”

“Bones,” Rainbow said, cutting them off, wing out and pointing to the mud a few feet away. “Looks like it, at least.”

Twilight didn’t see them at first, having mistaken them for bleached branches. “I think it was a goat,” she said, the smooth, arched curve of ribs looking about the right length. “Is that a rock or a horn?”

Rainbow stepped over for a closer look. “Horn. Can’t say they didn’t warn us.”

“More than enough time to get back,” Squirrel said, her ears erect and tail out as she stared unblinkingly at the bones. “Easy walk, really – no risk. Let’s go?”

“Meh – don’t worry about it Squirrel,” Rainbow said far more casually than Twilight would’ve been able to. “Like you said: we’ll be fine.”

“Really, Squirrel,” Twilight added. “Dash and I’ve got this. I don’t actually think the changelings would’ve let us come out here if there was really any danger of us getting eaten willy-nilly. At the very least we should get a chance to explain ourselves; then, we’ll either find out if we can get the sliver, or not.”

“Super safe,” Rainbow agreed. “Except for goats, of course.”

Squirrel still looked like she was ready to bolt until, with a violent shake of her body, she let out a loud huff. “Right,” she said, rolling her shoulders and flicking her tail nervously. “Okay then. Right. Let’s go.”

They were quiet as they pushed on, leaving the portentous sight behind. Jackets were opened and scarves were loosened as they climbed and descended in equal measure; with the sky little more than a too-bright smudge of light above, they were left with no way of knowing how long they’d been going – it could be noon already, or even well past that for all they knew.

It was with relief, then, when they crested a mossy logjam – big enough to have formed a small pond behind it – and found themselves facing a branch in the path.

“Finally,” Rainbow groaned as they entered the wide fork. “We’re here.”

Gnarled roots hung down from the ground above, blotting out much of the light; the sound of running water rang out all around them, but with how strong the echo was there was no telling from which branch it came.

“Light on the right, then, eh?” Rainbow called back as she made a hurried jog around the pond’s peripherals, her energy clearly returned. Poking her head down first one path and then the other, she turned back frowning. “Both look like they’re all just rocks to me.”

“Too dang dirty,” Squirrel agreed as she moved to join her.

“I think this one’s a granite,” Rainbow said, rearing up to tap on one of the right path’s walls. “Definitely sounds like a granite.”

Squirrel gave it a tap of her own. “I think it’s mica.”

Leaving the two geologists to their work, Twilight took to examining the pond itself; unlike before, the water here lacked any rotten scent and looked clear to boot. There didn’t seem to be much of anything living in it – just some tiny, rugged-looking plants along the sides and a few little insects flitting about here and there – so she suspected it might be fit for drinking. Curiously, while she’d originally thought the wyverns were somehow causing the wretched scent and fouling downstream, the water here seemed to suggest otherwise.

From the looks of it, the lion’s share was flowing in from the leftmost route, with barely a trickle from the right.

Despite Rainbow and Squirrel’s continued bickering, neither side’s walls really looked ‘dark’ or ‘light,’ even ignoring the layers of lichen, mud and snow. “I wonder if changelings see a different spectrum than us?” Twilight wondered aloud as she took a few tentative steps down the leftern path. “Going to be reeeally annoyed if so.”

Leaving the other two behind for the moment, she started off on her own down the winding canyon. She couldn’t’ve made it more than forty feet before she had to turn back lest she lose sight of the fork, yet it was not before she’d noticed a couple of things.

“There you are!” Rainbow said, she and Squirrel having noticed her return. “Find anything?”

“Yes, actually,” Twilight nodded, a faint smile beginning to form. “There’s a bit of a breeze down there – well, there’s a breeze everywhere here, isn’t there – but this one’s kind of warm; plus, I think I saw a fern just around the first bend.”

“It was warm?” Squirrel asked, intrigued. “Huh. Not what I would’ve expected given all the snow.”

“Nah – this is mostly from a storm a few days back,” Rainbow said. “There’s no permafrost here.”

“Oh.”

“Still, though,” Squirrel plowed on. “It’s a great sign! Ferns mean nothing’s frozen, which has got to be good, and wyverns’re going to be hot, right? Wherever they are? I can’t see their dens being chilly.”

“They won’t be,” Twilight smiled. “Any luck on the right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Rainbow grinned as she bounded over to the passage. “This one’s definitely a granite,” she said, pointing to the right.

“Very definitely,” Squirrel agreed.

“Right!” Rainbow nodded. “And this one’s a rock!”

Twilight blinked. “A... rock.”

“Oh yes,” Squirrel said. “We couldn’t agree on just what type, mind you, but it’s definitely a rock.”

Twilight sighed – she should’ve expected this. “Right. Well. Left passage or right?”

“Left.”

“Yeah, totally left.”

“Oh, good – that’s settled, then.” Twilight turned back to gesture towards the pond. “Any thoughts on refilling our canteens here? How’re you two doing?”

Squirrel hopped down and over to the pond to pass what looked like a learned eye over it. After nearly a minute she gave the water a tentative lap. “Yeah, it’s okay,” she said, grabbing her canteen. “Smells like runoff from the glacier, and there’s no worrisome muck in it, either.”

Twilight hadn’t noticed anything herself, but figured if this was anyone’s area of expertise, it was Squirrel’s. The next few minutes were spent nibbling on food and drinking their fill, not knowing when the next opportunity would arise.

Once all that was settled, they packed back up and carried on. “There’s the fern,” Twilight said, nodding towards the first bend. It was bare moments before they rounded it fully and found themselves stepping into a veritable garden; here, the walls widened out a touch, with greeny-yellow ferns spilling out from ledges and crags, while a slippery carpet of drowned moss lay underhoof. The weave of roots above cast everything in dappled light, easily illuminating the many cairns set up on most every boulder, rising like islands above the stream.

“I didn’t expect this,” Twilight said, relishing the sight and warm breeze. “I suppose we took the right branch, after all.”

“Oh, you never know,” Rainbow said as she leapt ahead a couple stones, her wings flaring out for balance. “Maybe these ones mean ‘danger, go back’?”

“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here?” Squirrel suggested.

“Yeah! That!”

“Uh huh,” Twilight drawled as she took in the more practical aspects of the spot. Here, the water had pooled out enough that jumping between dry spots was a necessity: the pond behind had been absolutely frigid, shutting down any idea of simply wading through this section; unfortunately, nigh on everything was mossy. “How’s traction, Dash?”

“Bad,” Rainbow said. “Don’t think we have a choice, though.”

“Water’s not too deep,” Squirrel added, pacing along their little shore. “Cold, sure, but I don’t think it even reaches our barrels.”

Rainbow hopped over to another rock, her rear hooves slipping on the moss. “No sense talking about it,” she called back to them. “Let’s get going.”

Measuring the distance from the edge to the nearest boulder, Twilight lurched forwards and leapt, landing awkwardly on the boulder, her hooves sliding as she fought for purchase.

“You good there?” Rainbow called, clearly fighting a snicker. “’Cause we should probably save the dancing until after we get the sliver.”

“Har har,” Twilight snipped as she cautiously moved out of the way for Squirrel. “If every stone’s like that, I think we’re all going for a swim by the end of this.”

Squirrel promptly jumped over to join her, not even bothering with a run-up, and landed without sliding in the least.

“Yeah, well, Rainbow and I’ll be going for a swim, then,” Twilight grumbled.

Rainbow just fluttered her wings and hopped over to the next stone with little trouble.

Twilight sighed as she followed in her hoofsteps. “I don’t know how many much longer until we get there,” she said, having found her rhythm well enough to be confident talking. “You’re sure you didn’t see anything that could’ve been their den, earlier?”

“Saw lots of things that could’ve been caves,” Rainbow answered. “That’s the problem.”

Icy water leapt up to nip at Twilight’s belly as her rears slipped into the stream. Kicking hard off the bottom – it must’ve been a half-foot deep at this point – she splashed herself even more as she shot onto the boulder.

“Dangit, Sparkle!” Squirrel laughed behind her. “Now I’m all wet!”

Ignoring her for the moment, Twilight busied herself swiping off what water she could, thankful that her boots seemed waterproof. “You’re wet?” she shot back, glaring in equal measure at Squirrel and the treacherous stone.

The mare hopped on over, landing deftly beside her. “I was hoping to get through this dry,” Squirrel smirked.

“I’ll have you know, for someone of my stature that was a picture-perfect jump,” Twilight groused. “Anyone would’ve slipped. Rainbow doesn’t count,” she added for good measure.

“Sure, sure,” Squirrel nodded, not at all condescendingly. “The wings are cheating, after all.”

They were nearly at the section’s end, where once again a sharp, irregular bend cut off their view; while Rainbow could’ve scouted beyond at any time, she hadn’t, as she’d put it, ‘wanted to spoil the mystery.’

The final few leaps were without ado as the three of them stepped down on a raised, pebbly embankment that had built up on the outer wall. Oddly, off to the side the nubs of burnt-out candles sat in a melted clump in a small gouge in the rock, rough-hewn symbols etched around them. “What’s this?” she wondered aloud.

“Don’t know,” Squirrel said, giving it a curious look-over herself. “That’s the old script the changelings’ used way back when; they gave up on it when they started trading with everybody,” she added for Twilight’s benefit. “Can’t read it myself, though.”

“Memorial, maybe?” Rainbow suggested. “Easy enough to drown in here if there’s a flash flood, wings or not.”

That put a damper on things. With barely another glance around, they pressed on, soon rounding the bend to find themselves at yet another intersection; this time as many as four different paths branched off, depending on whether or not you counted the one that looked more like a crawl-tunnel than anything else. Without a word, they all began examining the rockwalls for any sign of light or dark.

The air was still warm, even feeling a touch muggy to Twilight; plants grew sparsely, though one could hardly call the place lush. Unfortunately, the cairns were entirely absent, as were any guiding signs on the walls, this latter rather annoying her given they knew now that ‘lings came out here on occasion.

Although, as Rainbow’d said, no one puts up directions in their own backyard.

“Any luck?” Squirrel asked, her voice muffled from out of sight.

While both sides of the path she was on did look to be different, Twilight could hardly hope to call one lighter or darker. “Not really.”

“In that case,” Rainbow said, returning to the intersection. “I say we just wing it.”

“That... sounds incredibly dumb,” Twilight said, forgetting herself for a moment. “I mean – I’m sorry, but I reeeally don’t think wandering down branches at random is in any way a sane way to progress here.”

Rainbow just shrugged, waving off her apology. “Sure – I know that – but what was it that poncy detective pony said? Once you’ve ruled out all the impossible stuff, whatever’s left are your only options? Even if they’re dumb?”

“That’s, uhh,” Twilight paused, blinking. “That’s suspiciously well paraphrased, Dash.”

Rainbow grinned. “And totally right, right? ‘Cause what else are we gonna do?”

“In Rainbow’s defence, it’s technically not bumbling about if we put up markers to show which way we came,” Squirrel said.

Twilight was still too surprised by having Currycombs quoted poorly at her to do much more than grunt.

“So!” Squirrel said, turning to Rainbow. “Which way looks good to you? I think we should go left, since that’s what we did last time.”

Coming out of her stupor, Twilight checked out the lefternmost path. There didn’t seem to be anything special going for it, but then the same could be said for the other two. “I suppose I can’t see anything wrong with that...”

“Left it is, then,” Rainbow nodded as she led the way.

The passage was narrower than the last, with a steady stream weaving underhoof. The light seemed to dim the further in they went, as the thin slit of sunlight overhead became lost amongst snow-laden boughs. Their hoofsteps echoed loudly off the walls – far louder than before – and, occasionally, the echoes of something else altogether would bounce back to them from far ahead.

“Should be good,” Rainbow muttered as she finished up a three-stone cairn; small slots would every so often break away in odd directions and none of them wanted to take any chance of getting lost on the way back.

Twilight hummed distractedly, examining the slots walls just as she’d done for every one since. “Still no colour change,” she sighed.

“I don’t think they were lying to us,” Squirrel said, answering her unasked question. “Something else is going on.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said with another sigh. “I suspect it’s an eyesight thing. Did you know that dragons can’t see violet? Spike always said I looked like the ocean. It might be something similar with changelings.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Squirrel frowned. “That’s... annoying.”

“Tell me about it.”

As they carried on, Twilight did her best to work out just how long they’d been going for. They’d left Shade around sunrise – she thought that might be around seven in these parts – trekked for a few hours until they’d found the crevice; then, after a short rest it was maybe an hour until the first branch. Add another hour for good measure and it was probably noon.

Another eerie echo rang back at them. “Just snow falling off branches, I imagine,” Twilight said, mostly to calm her nerves. “This isn’t going to be the mines all over again – it’s just random water noises.”

“Oh, definitely,” Rainbow nodded, looking for all the world eager. “Just water. I mean, the water’s being splashed by monsters, sure, but yeah – just water.”

“Why do you sound happy at that?” Squirrel muttered. “I, for one, don’t want to have anything to do with those things from the forest again. Ever.”

“Why not? We totally had them figured in the end, didn’t we?”

“Maybe these ones are different! They could be the claws-and-death kind, for all you know.”

“Girls,” Twilight interrupted. “Quiet. We’ll deal with... whatever’s making the noise when we have to. Besides, it probably is just water.”

It wasn’t just water.

A squat, adze-legged creature stepped gingerly around the pond before pausing and appearing to drink. At barrel-height and covered in a shell-like carapace, with four spidery legs and what could only be described as a pair of large pedipalps, there was no doubting that they were looking at yet another of the bizarre creatures they’d first encountered weeks ago.

“What are they doing here?” Squirrel hissed. The three of them were still some metres away, their heads poking out from one of the passage’s many bends and twists. “Isn’t it too cold for them?”

“What in the world are you basing that on?” Twilight hissed right back at her. “Besides – it’s not.” It had been getting steadily warmer over the last hour, until they’d reached a point entirely devoid of ice and snow.

“But we know them, right?” Rainbow said, acting entirely too incautious for Twilight’s liking. “We just gotta be calm and move slowly and get out of their way when we need to.”

“And don’t step on their eggs,” Squirrel added.

“Yeah – that. We did it once, we can do it again; I mean, you were literally the one that figured it out and shouted at them the first time, Twi.”

She couldn’t deny that. “Yeees, but I’m worried these may be different somehow. Lots of animals can develop traits unique to their territory – for all we know, these ones could be aggressive.”

Rainbow gave her a skeptical look. “You know we’re, like, thirty feet from it, right? And we’re talking normally.”

Twilight huffed. “Fine. Maybe they are okay. So what now?”

Rainbow stepped out fully around the corner; the creature didn’t react. “We press on.”

“But what about the time, Dash? We’ll need to go slow and cautious – there’s no way that I can see of us getting all this done today.”

“We could camp?” Squirrel suggested. “We’ve the clothes and food for it, and it is warm here. Sort of.”

Twilight opened her mouth to shoot that down, but stopped – surprisingly, she didn’t feel put off at the prospect of sleeping curled up in some damp ravine. “I suppose we could...”

Rainbow laughed. “Careful, Twi – at this rate you’ll prove Cadance right about sending you here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Twilight chuffed. “I just don’t want all of this to be a waste.”

Rainbow stepped back to give her a swat. “Even without the sliver it still isn’t – think of the stories we’ll have!”

“Of course – however could I forget,” Twilight drawled.

“Not to interrupt, but shouldn’t we get down to brass tacks?” Squirrel said uncertainly. “It’s still early – are we looking to press on, or...?”

“Press on, of course,” Twilight said without hesitation. “We can always backtrack if we need to; plus, if these ones do turn out to aggressive, we’ll still want daylight on our way back.”

“Right,” Squirrel muttered. “On we go, then.”

They crept forward, ears perked and eyes sharp as they watched the creature for any signs of hostility. Despite her curiousity, Twilight hadn’t spent nearly as much time as she could’ve back in Hurricanum trying to learn just what they were: the few questions she’d asked just got her disinterested shrugs in return, and as she’d never expected to encounter them again, it was so easy to allow herself to be distracted by everything else.

Like before, the creature turned what probably constituted its head towards them for only a few moments before going back to the pond. “Slow and steady, right?” Squirrel whispered. “No sudden movements.”

Rainbow made a disparaging nosie, not even trying to keep her voice down. “How are you still scared of these things? We’re outside for goodness’ sake! In daylight!”

Squirrel made hurried shushing motions. “Quiet down! Like Twilight said – these could be the murderous kind!”

Rainbow scoffed and stared at the creature, now only a few metres away. “Right. Reeeal murderous.”

“Dash,” Twilight said warningly. “Quiet. Let’s just get past this one, and then we can sort out our next step.” Privately, Twilight was starting to feel a little worried about Rainbow – she was being awfully irritable given that, as she’d said, there was still open sky above.

The creature gave them no more than a passing glance, mimicing the ones from the mines weeks ago; perhaps they really would get through this unscathed? The canyon quickly turned again just beyond, leading to yet another long, largely-unbroken stretch of rocks and ferns. While she couldn’t spot out any more of the things, she also couldn’t help but think she’d caught the whiff of cinnamon in the air.

“Are you alright?” Twilight asked once they’d gone a little ways forwards. “Dash?”

Rainbow grunted, furling and unfurling her wings in turn. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just not looking forward to getting stuck underground. Again.”

“We’re not in any tunnels, Dash,” Twilight chided her as they neared the next twist in the path. “And there’s no reason to believe that’s going to change.”

Rainbow gave her a look.

“Really! We’re all in the outflow section of these gullies right now: logically, we can only go up from here.”

Now it was Squirrel’s turn to stare at her.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Twilight said, despite already beginning to second-guess herself. “Just because the last two instances of these... things... were associated with burrows and tunnels doesn’t mean this one will be too!”

They rounded the bend to find themselves in a wide basin of sorts. Water trickled in freely from somewhere above, half-drowning the carpet of moss, ferns and the scented clusters of eggs attached to most every part that stood well enough above the surface. More of the creatures perched or skittered about the place; at the far end was a tall crack in the wall, a stream gurgling merrily out of its depths.

There was no other way forwards.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”